


Aftermath—The Job That Could End All Jobs

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6831820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to kill Victor Dubenich.  No mercy this time.  No mercy.  Takes place during The Radio Job and The Last Dam Job</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath—The Job That Could End All Jobs

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought there had to be some time between when the warehouse exploded and Nate visited Dubenich in prison. There were no bruises visible, so he had to have some time to heal.

Aftermath—The Job That Could End All Jobs

His eye hurt. He’d never been hit by anything flying through the air, unless he counted a fist.  He could still feel that there might be debris floating around in it.  He wondered if the one ear that had been bleeding had actually burst.  All he heard was buzzing.

“Nate?  Nate?  Can you hear me?”

Was Eliot actually yelling or speaking softly?  He didn’t know.  The smell of burning hit his nostrils as he sat on the asphalt.  His senses were starting to kick in, making him realize that the rest of them were in danger.

“We have to get, no, go,” he managed to choke out.

Nate heard off in the distance both Sophie and Parker yelling.  Was it at him?  Pieces of the building floated through the air as he still stared at what he saw off in the distance.

Eliot physically moved his head so that he could look directly into the hitter’s eyes.  Why’d he do that, Nate wondered? 

“We have to go,” Eliot said, face tense.

Nate looked back at the building, reliving what had just happened over and over again.  His mind was finally catching up with what had happened to his body.  He’d realize later that the anger that surged through him at that moment didn’t make him yell, didn’t make him want to punch something, didn’t make him want to cry.  He wanted to kill Victor Dubenich.  No mercy this time.  No mercy.

Eliot pulled Nate up, putting his shoulder into it, grabbing his arm and slinging it over his.  His eyes blurred, his head pounded, his back felt like it was on fire.  Hardison let go of Parker and Sophie finally and ran to his other side, propping him up. His legs would not work, his arms useless.  His ears still rang, almost like he was underwater.  Sophie was saying something to him, but he couldn’t understand.  Parker ran to the door of the van, making sure there was nothing in their way, hopping into the front to drive.

Slow motion.  It seemed like his life was now in slow motion.  He watched as Parker sat in the front seat, turning on the van.  Watched as Eliot climbed in beside him, Hardison helping, watched as Sophie took his hand in hers, watching as the tears escaped, running down her face as she looked at him. 

Eliot poked and prodded as Parker drove.  The light flashed in his eyes, making them hurt all that much more.  Sophie didn’t move from his side.  Hardison handed Eliot what he needed to attempt to clean some of the blood from Nate’s face.

After a few hours of Parker's driving, the van stopped, Eliot pointing to each of them to stay.  At least ten minutes flew by as Nate sat there, numb to whatever was going on around him. 

“It checks out,” Eliot said, Nate reading his lips.

Hardison and Eliot gently pulled Nate from the van.  He could feel his legs now, but they just didn’t seem to want to work the way he wanted them to.

The apartment, his apartment, was a bit dark for the afternoon.  The blinds were drawn, lights were off, the monitors were off.  It was cold.  It smelled like smoke, fire, death.  Everyone rushed around as he sat in one of the dining room chairs.  Sophie gently cleaned his neck where the blood from his ear had drained.  Eliot pulled off his jacket.  Parker paced off in the distance, a look of worry every time she glanced his way.  Hardison’s fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop, eyes darting from the window to the information on his screen.

Eliot ordered the other three around, pointing and pushing for them to hurry and carry out whatever he had asked them to do.  Finally, Nate grabbed Eliot, pulling his head down so he could speak, so Eliot would hear him.

“It’s OK.  He won’t come after us yet.  Not his move.”

“What?  Who?”

“I have to go, confront him.  Illinois.”

Nate saw when it finally dawned on Eliot who they were facing. 

“You can’t.  You’re in no condition to do anything.”

“He played us.”

“Who?” Sophie started.  “Who is he talking about?”

“Dubenich.”

The other three heard Eliot, stopping what they were doing.  Hardison’s fist hit the counter, cracking the display.  Parker, stopping her pacing, stared at Nate, asking with her eyes what they needed to do next.  Eliot’s rage came through loud and clear as his face contorted, scars visible and red from blood flow.  Sophie’s eyes widened, but she was the only one who seemed calm.  Nate knew better.  If he didn’t know better, he would say she was probably the most dangerous of all of them at the moment. 

Dubenich had set this all up, Nate surmised.  The Patent Office, his father, the bomb, everything, to mirror what had happened almost four years prior.  It looked like he had a long time in prison to figure out his revenge against Nate.

“We obviously have a murder to plan,” Sophie growled low in her throat.  That’s my girl, he thought.  Only he didn’t want her to even get near a gun.  That would be his job.

“He’s mine,” he reminded them all.  They each took a step back at the way he said it.  “He thought I would be there, with my father.  He missed. He missed.”

Nate’s voice rose at that last phrase, shouting it.  He needed to get rid of the obvious rage before confronting Dubenich. He needed to be ready to face the son of a bitch with his best game face.  If Victor even thought he might have the advantage, he’d use it, just like he used Jimmy Ford that afternoon.

He shouted the word no over and over again, pounding his fists to the table, to the floor when he finally fell over.  He saw Parker in his peripheral vision, putting her arms over her ears, tears streaming down her face.  Hardison looked to the ceiling mirroring what Parker was feeling, only attempting to hold it in.  Eliot stood close, if just to make him stop if it seemed like he was going to hurt himself more than he was hurt at that moment.  It was Sophie that finally stopped him, grabbing his fists and pulling him close, tightening her grip when he tried to escape.

“I’m here, I’m here.  We’re here,” she stated, calming him a bit.

His arms lost their strength finally.  Curling himself up into a ball, he fought the tears, fought them to stop so he could concentrate on destroying Dubenich.  Sophie’s hands didn’t stop touching him, on his back, through his hair, on his face. 

“I have to, we have to, I have to go,” he managed to get out, breathing difficult for him.

“Not yet. Not yet.”

Sophie was right, as always.  He needed time to grieve, if just a little.  He needed time to plan, to make sure that Dubenich knew he was coming for him this time and it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Oh god, Sophie.”

She took his face in her hands and turned him to look directly at her.

“Can you walk?”

“Maybe.  Possibly.”

The four of them managed to get him up the stairs and into the bathroom.  Sophie shooed them away finally, with Eliot lingering until the last minute.

“You just, just make sure if you need me,” he said as he closed the door to the bathroom.

Nate swayed as he sat on the closed toilet seat.  He couldn’t really focus his eyes, but he could tell that Sophie wanted to help him.  Her fingers came into view as she unbuttoned, pulled and basically stripped him to his boxers.  Cloth stuck to him here and there even though she was gentle and slow.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He could hear out of the damaged ear, which was good because that hopefully meant his eardrum had not burst.  The ringing was still there, but less than it was before. 

Nate almost fell over as she let go to turn on the shower, but she was faster and caught him half way down.

“Please don’t fall. I don’t relish telling Eliot that you slipped in the shower.”

Nate felt himself smile a little bit at Sophie’s attempt.  He watched as she stripped in front of him.

“Do you think you can stand?”

“Yeah.”

He walked into the shower, boxers still on, not caring at all what was happening around him.   Sophie was naked, the water was scalding hot and his boxers now clung to him in the shower because he forgot to take them off.

Sophie’s hands managed to wrestle them off once she joined him.  Any other time, he’d have her pinned to the back of the shower, hands exploring every inch of her body.  Now he was just attempting to stand up so she wouldn’t get in trouble with Eliot.  She scrubbed him, she scrubbed herself.  Looking down, he saw blood in the water, bits of debris that had stuck to his skin, his hair. The smoky smell was still there though, possibly because the clothes in the bathroom, but probably because it still filled his mind, his nose, his body, his very core, his soul. He doubted he’d get rid of it anytime soon.

“Let’s get you dried off.”

Sophie was treating him with kid gloves.  He didn’t want to be treated that way.  He wanted to get ready to do battle, not be treated like a small child.  His body though would not cooperate.

Putting his arm around her shoulder, she slowly led him into his bedroom, towel still draped across his body.  The smell wasn’t as bad as it was in the bathroom.  He fell across the bed, pulling Sophie down with him.

“I have to check you over,” she said in his ear, the good ear.

“No,” he got out.

He buried his face in her hair, breathing her scent, her clean scent, trying to get rid of the burnt smell.  One of his hands held onto her shoulder to make sure she didn’t move from the position she was in. 

“Nate, we should.”

“No.”

The skin under his hand was soft, warm, damp from their shower together.  Her hair smelled of sunshine, citrusy, heaven.  He moved his head down to her neck. He could feel her heart beating as his lips moved across her skin.

“I need you,” he whispered against her neck, pulling her hand up to meet his other.  He squeezed and held on tight, like she was anchoring him, making him feel that he was alive and worth being there with her.

He could feel her gasp as he said those three words.  It didn’t take much for her to open to him, legs coming up and holding him in place once he did move. 

Nate knew he’d regret this later, knew that she’d tell him that she didn’t regret it ever.  He was mostly gentle with her, loving and giving.  This was not about gentle.  As he thrust up into her roughly, he heard her gasp, but didn’t stop him.  Not only did she not stop him, she met him stroke for stroke, holding him against her tightly as she did.  He buried his face in her hair again, arms holding her down to the bed.  One of her hands gripped onto his hair while the other one dug into his bicep, probably making more marks on his body than there already was.

She growled into his ear as he tightened his hold on her.  He didn’t move position, just kept up the pace that he had set at the beginning.  It was a punishing pace, but she made sure to hold onto him.  Her body tightened around his, back arching as she came, bringing him along quickly with a groan.  Her heavy breathing made him realize that he’d set all his weight on her. Rising on one of his elbows, he felt where the skin had gotten scraped off, making him wince in pain.

“You need to be patched up,” she finally said as she gained a semblance of calm.

As gently as she could, she rolled him over to his side, watching for signs of pain.

“It hurts everywhere,” he managed to get out as she completed letting go of him.

“I know.  I know.”

A few days later, Nate made his way down to the lower level, leaving Sophie to sleep off the night before.  They’d stayed up late again, planning a way to bring down Dubenich, then falling into one another, exhausted. The team had helped as much as they could the day before.  All the mess from the planning had been removed, papers gone, boards erased. The only thing that still was visible was the ship that he had built by his own hands.  That he would leave, to tweak Dubenich when he finally attempted to hit the team hard.  After taunting him in prison, it was just inevitable that the man would come looking for the team.

Boxes littered the floor, the monitors unhooked, all the tech removed from the room.

“One step ahead of me?”

Hardison acknowledged him, drinking from a liter of orange soda as he did.

“If you’re planning what I think you’re planning, this place is definitely not going to be safe.”

“And you’re probably guessing correctly.  He missed.”

“Latimer knows too.”

“So he does.”

Eliot entered the room, tape in hand.  Parker soon followed, expression grim.

“We have to finish upstairs,” Parker announced, taking the tape gun away from Eliot.

“Sophie’s um, still asleep.”

“Nah.  She’s standing on the steps.”

Nate turned to see Sophie, barefoot but dressed already.  She really could get ready quickly if she wanted.  He’d remember that, if they survived what they had planned.

“Time to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t kill him. Yet,” Eliot said.

“I’ve got something better planned for him.”

“Besides, Nate’s not a murderer,” Sophie answered in turn.

“Yet,” Nate whispered back so only Sophie could hear him.

 

 


End file.
